


Zone One

by casesandcapitals



Series: DustRunner!Verse [1]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 16:24:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/640813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casesandcapitals/pseuds/casesandcapitals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fun Ghoul only wants one thing, but it's not something within his grasp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zone One

The club is filthy with blacked out windows, cracked floors, and people smeared with oil and sand. You wouldn't notice the filth if you didn't search for it, but Ghoul's eyes flick over every inch of the place in a matter of seconds. The bodies pressed together, the multicolored lights pulsing and flickering, the trashy tech-pop music getting pushed through out of date speakers.  
The place is filled with Waveheads and it makes Ghoul's skin crawl. Fucking junkies, chasing down their next fix with no concern over their own wellbeing or the lives of those around them.  
Party Poison presses his lips to Ghoul's ear, about to shout something over the music, but Fun Ghoul just pushes away and heads to the bar. He orders a DustRunner. The electric blue liquor washes the dirt and dust from his mouth and throat. He coughs once before setting the dirty glass on the bar top and signaling for another. He slams back the second shot then turns to face the club.  
Party is already dancing with some curvy chick with green hair, arms slung low on her waist, hands creeping down to her ass. Ghoul scoffs and looks away, examining the other scantily clad, multicolored Waveheads surrounding him. The hot press of sweaty bodies makes him pull a face. He hates the Zone One clubs, he'd much rather be out in the middle of the desert with no one around for miles except his Killjoys. The air stinks in here, he wants the dry wind.  
Ghoul thinks about ordering another drink, but before he can turn around to signal the bartender, a thin woman sidles up to him. She sets her hands against the bar on either side of Ghoul, boxing him in and smiling down at him.  
"You looking for a good time, sweetie?" she asks in a voice that would be smooth if it wasn't worn down from years of breathing dust.  
"No," Ghoul answers, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at her.  
She makes like she's about to back off, but then she pauses and smiles again. "I know you."  
"No. You don't."  
"Oh, _yes I do_ , baby. You're Fun Ghoul," she laughs, pressing closer.  
Ghoul grabs her by the arm and shakes her. "No, I ain't, and if you know what's good for ya, you'll get lost."  
There's a burly man at the woman's shoulder in a second, glaring down at Fun Ghoul. Ghoul let's go of the woman's arm but stares down the man. He's faced off against Korse, he sure as shit isn't afraid of some Zone One bouncer.  
"Now, now, take it easy sugar," says the woman, waving the bouncer away. The man only takes two steps back, keeping his eyes on Ghoul. "I'm just trying make sure you're having a good time."  
"I ain't, so fuck off." Ghoul flicks his eyes away from the woman and scans the club again. He can't see Party's cherry red hair anywhere, which means he must be in one of the back rooms with the contact.  
"No, no," the woman smirks. "I think I have just the thing for you." She leans away to say something into the bouncer's ear. The man turns to walk away. "I got something that'll wipe that scowl off your pretty face."  
Fun Ghoul isn't even listening at this point. He's scanning the club, waiting for Party's reappearance. They just need to get the drive and get out but Party's taking too long and it's making Ghoul antsy.  
"Here we are." The woman's rough voice intrudes on his thoughts and he glances back to her in time to see the face of the thin boy she's pushing into his chest. He's pale and thin, with dark orange hair and bright green eyes. The orange almost looks red in the dark club and if Ghoul squints just a bit-  
"No, thanks," he says gruffly, grabbing the boy's stick-thin arms and pushing him back to the woman.  
She pushes the boy back into him and the kid doesn't even put up a fight. "He'll make you feel good, honey. Only 40 carbons."  
Ghoul's mouth twists up in disgust. He can tell from the boy's blown pupils and the pin prick marks on his neck that the kid's fucked up on something bad. He probably fell into hooking to pay for his habit. Ghoul grabs the kid by his dark orange hair and twists him around so he's no longer touching him.  
"No," he growls at the woman. "Now get your boy the fuck away from me before I give in to the temptation to blast your club into the next zone."  
The woman glares at him, taking the boy from his grasp. "Famous Fun Ghoul," she taunts, "Too good for a Wavehead slut. Guess you got your eyes set on something better, huh?" Her gaze flicks over to the other side of the club where Party Poison has appeared, hair wild and clothes rumpled, slipping carbons into the green haired girl's back pocket. "Tell me how that turns out," the woman laughs.  
Fun Ghoul's face flushes crimson as the woman walks away dragging the junkie boy. He sees Poison making his way across the crowded dance floor and immediately turns his back on the whole club. He signals the bartender for two more drinks. He throws the first one back then grabs the second glass just as Party reaches for it.  
"What the 411?" he asks before tossing the liquor back.  
"We're good," Party answers, quirking an eyebrow at Ghoul. "All the zeros and ones are there."  
"Good. Let's get the fuck out of here."


End file.
